


The Cockbyte Mobsters

by Chaus (SkepticOrange)



Series: Cockbyte Clusterfuck [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Addiction, Bad life decisions, Bromance, Disturbing Quantities of BAMFness, Drug Use, Fighting, Gang Affairs, Gangs, Literally just assume whatever warning a gang would come with applies here, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, UST, so much cursing, so much fighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6200500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkepticOrange/pseuds/Chaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When push comes to shove, Ryan can trace the imminent downwards spiral of his life directly to the source: teaching. If he'd never decided to teach, he'd have never roomed with Jack for a shorter commute. If he'd never roomed with Jack he wouldn't have needed to go to Target and wouldn't have gotten his wallet stolen. If his wallet hadn't been stolen he'd have never joined a gang.<br/>Sure, there's a few leaps and bounds in reasoning there but overall, he'd say it makes complete sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Best of New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, Chaus here! It's been awhile since I deleted La Neurosis Existencial and I'm finally ready to start posting a story I'm significantly more proud of. Who knows, if I can ever look at LNE without cringing, I might even edit and repost it. Small talk aside, please settle in and READ this because we've got a bit to go over to get you all prepared and ready for this behemoth.
> 
> This story is wholly fictional, obviously. I've been putting in terrifying amounts of research into this story and it isn't complete yet but I can easily estimate at least a hundred chapter so if you're here looking for a quick resolution, you've maybe opened the wrong story.
> 
> All ages in this story are accurate to real life in relation to the timeline. I've tried to make things as realistic as possible but you, the readers, can be the judge on that (if this story goes anywhere) once the action picks up. There are a lot of things that should be warned and mentioned so warning, when applicable, will be at the beginning of each chapter. I'll update weekly or every other week depending on life and motivation. Unless I have an absolute emergency, you won't have to wait longer than that for a chapter.
> 
> That's all I think I need to touch on for now, please Enjoy!

_May 21_ _st_ _, 2009 - Thursday_

“God _dammit_!” Ryan yelled, slamming his apartment door shut as he stomped inside. Jack, his housemate, didn’t even look up as he spooned cereal into his mouth at the kitchen table and read the paper.

“Bad day?” Jack asked, uninterested.

Ryan sat down across from the larger man with an aggravated sigh, placing his backpack on the floor, “The fuckers laid me off.”

Jack looked up at that, setting his newspaper aside to give Ryan what attention wasn’t on his cereal, “Why? Did you do something?”

“What the fuck would I do? They said they, ‘don’t have the resources to justify a theater department,’ and, ‘they’re very sorry, but they’ll have to let me go.’”

“Well shit,” Jack said, standing to place his empty bowl in the sink before sitting back down to continue with a sigh of his own, “what are you gonna do now?”

“Hell if I know, it took me ages to actually _get_ a job in theater. If Odyssey High had to lay me off and cut the Theater Department, chances are Griffon High, Austin Achieve, Clearview, and other schools around the area are about to do the same or already have.”

“Just look around man, I can’t actually afford the rent here alone and I don’t want a downgrade.”

“Thanks. Just feeling the sympathy man,” Ryan deadpanned.

Jack shrugged, “I can empathize a bit; I’d be devastated if the Emerald Restaurant laid me off, but the rent’s more important than that, I think.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, because it was, “at least we paid this week. I’ll try to find something in the next month.”

“No rush, take a bit of a break first. I can probably afford maybe two months on my own with my savings. They did pay you you when you left, right?”

“Yeah, I can make rent next month but I’d prefer not to be unemployed for an extended period of time.”

Jack shrugged, “I’m just saying, you can take a break before you hop back into the workforce. Definitely start looking though, as close to Trevor County as possible at first, there might still be some schools around here that are keeping their fine arts.”

“Will do,” Ryan said forcibly calmed by Jack’s refusal to be dragged into his bad mood, “I’ll tell you if I find anything.”

He squeezed his friend’s shoulder and grabbed his bag, slinging it onto one shoulder, as he passed by to head to his room. Just as he made it out of the kitchen, Jack called, “If you don’t I can maybe refer you to a guy, but it’s a last resort really.”

Ryan paused, “Who?”

“Doesn’t matter, he’s a last resort.”

With a shrug, Ryan continued to his room and stripped down to his boxer-briefs. If there was anything positive he could take out of losing his job, it was a glorious future of at least three weeks with snotty, high school brats and sweet, sweet sleep. No more early mornings. Basically, everything but the loss of income.

Seeing as it was barely past twelve o’clock, Ryan allowed himself an hour of relaxation before he’d get back up, get redressed, and go out to find the social life he’d abandoned for a bell schedule. Indulging his natural aversion to lazing about, Ryan rolled to the very edge of his queen bed to toe his backpack close enough to grab. Hauling the bag onto the bed and very narrowly managing not to fall off in the process, Ryan opened it and rummaged around for a clean notebook.

Settling back down in the middle of the bed, notebook and pen in hand, Ryan began planning his finances for the upcoming three months. If he hadn’t found a job by that time, he wanted to know just how much shit he’d be in. Some two hours later, he’d managed to orchestrate a budget that wouldn’t leave him broke in six months without using much of his savings, if he hadn’t found a job in that time. That done, he got up and stretched before grabbing a pair of pajamas from the dresser beside his room’s door. If he was going to be unemployed he was going to get some goddamn rest out of it.

 

.

 

 _June 2_ _nd_ _, 2009 - Tuesday_

The next two weeks passed rather quickly despite having a stark lack of any pressing matters to attend to. It was only the first week of June when Ryan felt the antsy feeling that normally accompanied breaks from work. He’d caught up on all the reading he’d promised himself he was going to get around to in his earlier twenties. He’d taken up community theater for all of one meeting before he realized drama clubs had too much damn _drama._ He needed something to do. With a world-weary sigh that he’d done nothing taxing enough to necessitate, Ryan got up to go see what his housemate was up to. Jack was nowhere to be seen when Ryan entered the kitchen, though there was a hastily written note on the fridge that read, “ _Switched shifts with a friend. Be back around eleven. We’re out of food in general, fend for yourself.”_

Ryan grumbled a bit as he opened the fridge to find it empty of everything but condiments. He grabbed his keys with a sigh; Target wasn’t that far away.

Ryan hated people. Ryan hated children. Ryan hated people with children. Ryan hated people with children at Target. It was two thirty on a _Tuesday_ for fuck’s sake, how many mothers with toddlers had the time to crowd every goddamn isle? Ryan had entered Target all of thirty minutes ago, expecting to grab some produce, snacks, drinks, and be on his merry way. Within the last thirty minutes, what he’d actually managed to do was refrain from strangling the six mothers (so far) who’d given him a smirk while nabbing the last of whatever item he was about to reach for.

Frustrated, stressed, and five minutes away from curb stomping the next five year old that stepped on his feet, Ryan adopted the mentality of the demon mothers around the store. He walked purposefully to the meats and yanked two boneless blade steaks from under a woman’s hand, returning her stink eye with barely concealed glee. Ten minutes later, Ryan had all the produce he’d originally came into get and he decided to leave snacks to Jack rather than dive back into the sea of angry mothers and deranged children.

As he got into the damnably long line at one of the open registers, he noticed a small man shaking with laughter an aisle over. The man noticed Ryan’s gaze and gave him a thumbs up, saying, “Pure art, man. Fuckin’ A.”

As Ryan saw it, one validation for his behavior was more than enough to shake the mild shock at his viciousness and preen for a moment, so he nodded in acknowledgement and went on his way. He reached the register, paying for his hard-won groceries before shoving his wallet into his back pocket. He strolled out with all the grace of a king in front of a room of his followers; paying so little attention that he bumped into the man that had congratulated him earlier. They gave each other a passing nod, smiling lightly, and parted ways.

Ryan returned home victoriously, wrestling a ridiculous amount of bags inside with some trouble. He put away the groceries, feeling almost like a full-functioning adult again despite his lack of employment. Reaching into his back pocket to throw his wallet onto the counter, Ryan blanched. Almost disbelievingly, he patted his pockets frantically before turning out his front pockets.

“No…,” he muttered, ripping the grocery bags up and crumpling them each as though his wallet had somehow teleported into one of them, “No!”

He raked his hands through his hair in agitation, mentally retracing his steps when he finally came to a conclusion, “That _fucker,_ ” he hissed as he remembered the smaller man he’d ‘bumped’ into, “the fucker stole my wallet!”

“Who stole your what now?” Jack asked as he opened the door and shuffled in.

“The fucker at Target!” Ryan hissed venomously.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jack said, his hands raised defensively as he headed to the kitchen, “start from the beginning.”

Ryan sighed, following his friend and falling into one of the chairs defeatedly in stark juxtaposition to the way he’d entered the apartment, “Well, it started with the fucking insane mothers in Target-”

“Insane?” Jack interrupted, rifling through the fridge.

“One of them actually fucking fought a pack of steak out of my hands, Jack! She and her filthy toddler and their fucking smug faces _fought_ me for the last steak!”

“Oh, wow, I can tell that’s going to turn into a rant,” Jack muttered as he popped a TV dinner into the microwave, then, louder, “I’m going to have to cut you off before you get started, I’m only in for lunch.”

Though disappointed he couldn’t vent all of his anger, Ryan moved on, “Well, when I got to the registers, this man in a hoodie sort of praised me from fighting back at the bitchy moms. I bumped into him on the way out the door and didn’t notice he’d jacked my wallet until I got home.”

“Damn, do you remember what he looked like?” Jack said, his voice sympathetic as he sat down to eat.

Ryan recalled for a moment before answering, “Yeah, he was short-ish with black hair. Glasses. An ugly-ass purple hoodie and he seemed a bit…. twitchy? The fucker was drenched in sweat too.”

Jack paused, his fork paused just in front of his mouth. He seemed to ponder something for a minute before he said, “Have you started canceling your cards yet?”

“No, I only just realized. Fuck, I have to do that now.”

Jack was silent for another moment before saying, “Remember that last measure I mentioned?”

Ryan sighed, mildly annoyed and very stressed, “Jack, a job isn’t exactly what on my mind right now but fine, I’ll bite: yes, I remember.”

“Well,” He began, pausing hesitantly as though he wasn’t quite sure how to go on, “I… might have. Been in a gang, like, just out of college.”

Choosing to restrain his shock until he had the full story, Ryan encouraged Jack to continue lightly, “Yes…?”

Jack sighed, “That man you mentioned sounds like someone I used to know. I still have a friend from the gang’ number so there’s a chance-- a slight chance-- you could get your wallet back. We’re right around their territory so it’s not too far-fetched but I could be wrong.”

Ryan nodded for a second, then shook his head-- it just didn’t fit, “Why the fuck did you join a gang?”

Jack sighed again, “Again, I’m on break. It’s a long story.”

“Please don’t think I won’t ask again later.”

“I think you should be more worried about your financial security right now,” Jack said peevishly, “Look, I’ll text you the guy’s number, you decide if you wanna join or whatever. I don’t care. I have to get back to work.”

Throwing the empty box of his food in the trash, Jack head to the door, ignoring Ryan’s call of, “It’s only been twenty minutes!”

His housemate had only been gone for five minutes when his phone vibrated with a new text: _Here’s the number. The guy’s name is Joey. He’s a grunt so the most he can do is recruit you as one but it is a job all the same. If I’m not wrong, the man who stole your wallet normally comes to recruiting to do a background check so...if he’s not there, start canceling shit immediately._

Ryan stared at the number for a long moment, deciding if this was the particular rabbit hole he wanted to go down. Eventually, he stood up with a long, resigned sigh. He’d decided.

 

.

 

Joey was very loud. Even over text, it was obvious the man had an obnoxious personality. Ryan’s dislike of that must have carried through over text because, the longer they spoke, the less…. abrasive he got. Joey proposed they meet up at noon the next day, Wednesday, and Ryan agreed if only because the faster he met Joey and their “background checker,” the faster he knew how much he should be worrying about his stolen wallet.

Jack looked less than pleased that Ryan had chosen to go his old route despite giving him the option in the first place though Ryan could neither say that he cared about nor _didn’t_ understand his friend’s reservations.

Tuesday came and went and, just an hour before he was supposed to meet Joey, the man messaged him with the location. Some seedy area behind a recently closed store. It was roughly forty-five minutes away so Ryan locked the apartment up, texting Jack the last of the meeting’s details, and headed out.

Ryan actually made it to the meeting ten minutes late, not having accounted for Austin’s shitty traffic for once. He pulled into the parking lot of an old convenience store, noticing it’s windows were broken and the inside of the place looked battered to all hell, before dismissing it and walking behind the building casually. He heard two voices as he got closer, one shaky, annoyed, and nervous, the other obnoxious. As he turned the corner the talking paused and both men looked at him.

Ryan could easily place the taller man, a platinum blonde, as Joey. His eyes seemed to be permanently stretched to look very surprised and he twitched his nose sporadically, sniffing each time. The second man was Ryan’s “friend” from Target and behind the immediately apparent indignation he felt, Ryan was ultimately glad Jack had been right. His hair was black, oily-looking, and unkempt, like his last bath had been last year. He was shivering, his eyes darting around nervously though he occasionally, confidently met Ryan’s gaze head on. Recognition sparked in his eyes for a moment and then washed away in a sea of what looked like fear. Ryan was positive this man was on every drug known to mankind and then some.

Joey spoke first, “Ryan, my man, meet Ray!” he motioned to Twitchy McTwitcherson, “He’s the background checker so, y’know, he’ll grab some identification from you just to make sure of some stuff and then figure out everything you’ve done with your life since you were born!”

Joey’s grin and voice both set Ryan on edge, his voice was mildly nasal and he dragged the last word of each sentence as though he’d added it as an afterthought. Ryan simply nodded in response to the information and looked at Ray who was squinting at Ryan intently.

“Uh…,” Joey began uncomfortably, “Ray? Mate? You gonna like, get some identification? Or whatever? Like, you gotta do the thing you do, man. You remember-oof!”

Ray jammed his elbow into Joey’s stomach distractedly, not looking away from Ryan. After a few minutes of Ray’s slightly confused glare, his face eased into a comfortable grin.

“Oh,” Ray said, surprised, “I already checked this guy out. Filched his wallet yesterday and got curious about who the beast at Target was.”

“So…,” Joey pushed, waiting for some sort of decision, “Was he all good or…?”

Ray grinned brightly, still shivering despite the heat. He made for a disturbing visual as he twitched spasmodically, sweating heavily as though he’d just run a marathon, and locked his dilated pupils to Ryan’s face to say,

“Welcome to Cockbyte.”

 

 .

 

Joey cheered far too enthusiastically for  Ryan’s “passing” of the background check and Ray continued to stare at Ryan expectantly. Since he wasn’t sure what the protocol was for moments like this, Ryan decided to go the safe route and thank Ray,

“Give me my wallet.”  

Ray blinked, staring at Ryan in confusion yet again and somehow managing to miss the benefits of actually conversing rather than expressing everything through facial expressions.

“Give. Me. My wallet,” Ryan repeated, staring at Ray just as intently as the man was ogling him. Ray’s brows furrowed a little and his hand twitched a few times before he brought it slowly to his hoodie’s pocket. He kept his hand there and stopped, the furrow of his eyebrows deepening in frustration. Ryan sighed and spoke in the immovable voice taught to him by teaching tweens for years, “Ray. My wallet. Now.”

Ray pulled the wallet from his hoodie, _finally,_ and handed it to Ryan with shaking hands. He continued to stare expectantly at Ryan once he retrieved his belongings and Ryan almost had the urge to pat the man’s head in praise. Shaking that weird inclination away from himself, Ryan nodded to Ray and flashed him the lightest of smiles before turning to Joey who looked… shell-shocked.

“So, what happens next?” Ryan asked, easily ignoring Joey’s expression.

Joey sniffed, “Well, we figure out when we get you into out mob’s hideout, introduce you to people, and get you some grunt work.”

“Grunt work.” Ryan said, rather than asked.

“Yeah man, we get you working on some petty pick-pocketing, tiny shoplifting, maybe a few beat downs…. y’know, we see if you’ve got a knack for the trade.”

Ryan shrugged, “Okay, I guess.”

Joey sniffed, “Oh, I almost forgot, you wanna be called anything? Like, if you got a life to go back to at some point having people know your real name is gonna be an absolute bitch.”

Ryan pondered for a minute because Joey wasn’t wrong on that front. Before he could answer, Joey snorted and chuckled out, “You could call yourself the ‘Tamer of Ray’ because he’s never responded to anyone like that.”

Less than amused, Ryan stared blankly at the blonde until his giggles abruptly stopped.

“Ryan will do.”

“What a fucking party pooper,” Joey grumbled.

“Can I go the the hideout today or is there some wait period?”

“There’s normally a wait for Ray to work his magic but since he’s already got you down you could head in right now.”

Ryan shook his head, “I was just curious; who the fuck joins a gang on a Wednesday? I can do Saturday or Sunday.”

“Saturday works, we’ll pick you up and take you there, mate,” Joey said easily, then put a hand to the middle of Ray’s back to get the man moving, he said, “It’s been good, see you on the weekend, friend.”

Ryan nodded and walked back to his car, completely missing the way Ray twisted repeatedly in Joey’s grasp to turn back and stare at him.

 


	2. A Cockbyte Crash Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Ryan joins a gang, Joey is annoying, and Ray is full of surprises and drugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI. Nice to see you here in chapter two. So, before we get this party started, here's what you need to know:  
> Ryan's journal, mentioned in this chapter, will be posted as a part of this series every Wednesday. If you ever need a refresher course, that's your best bet.  
> This chapter is longer because the prologue was painfully short, you're quite welcome.  
> Now, while I love having a ton to say before each chapter, I'll let you get to it. Enjoy!
> 
> WARNINGS: Drug Usage, Foul Language

_ June 3 _ _ rd _ _ , 2009 - Wednesday _

Ryan threw his keys on the wall rack beside the door as he clattered inside. Despite how unwilling he was to give into the impulse to gape in shock at what he’d just done, he was still reeling. Sometime between getting back into his car and pulling into the apartment’s parking lot, it really hit him that he was _joining_ _a gang_. Ryan Haywood, former high school theatre teacher of three years, was going to be a member of a _gang_. It wasn’t exactly the birthday wish he’d entered his twenty-eighth year with.

Ryan locked the door behind him absently and shuffled over to the couches in the sitting room beside the kitchen. He collapsed into one of the seats, placed his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. He honestly lost track of time as he sat there having his midlife crisis and re-evaluating what he thought he knew about himself. He sat like that contemplating the overall surreality of life and how the decision he just made was most likely a dream until Jack noisily came in from work.

“Oh,” Jack said, surprised as he noticed Ryan on the couch, “hey man, what’s up? How’d it go?”

Ryan looked up, his face a perfect caricature of despondency as he murmured, “I’m in a gang Jack; how the fuck do you think it went?”

Jack, seeming to understand that he was going to have to be the optimistic one here, put down his bags by the door and sat across from Ryan, “Technically,” he began, “it’s a mob-”

Ryan groaned with an almost exaggerated despair and Jack nodded to show that he was more than aware he wasn’t helping before he went on.

“What exactly about this is the bad part?”

“What.” Ryan more stated than asked, staring at his housemate blankly.

“No really,” Jack said, “What about this is the actually bad part? Like, does it clash with your moral values?”

“I am a firm believer in-”

“Moral existentialism,” Jack interrupted, “so you’re fine on that front, awesome. What about like, social obligations? Are you afraid of disappointing others?”

Ryan looked almost offended by how much about him Jack apparently didn’t remember, “The majority, if not the entirety, of the people I regularly conversed with were other teachers from the high school, all of whom I was indifferent to at best, hated at worst. I’ve told you this.”

“I know,” Jack said placatingly, “I just thought you maybe needed a reminder. There really is no downside to this job for you unless you get caught.”

“That’s a pretty fucking big downside.”

“Then let’s not look at that. What’s in this that’s good for you?”

“Zero things, Jack! I’m not two, you can’t fucking make this sound like a good idea by getting me to ignore the majority of it!” Ryan shouted, more than done with Jack’s patronizing tone.

“Well of course I can and I will because you’re  _ already  _ fucking in it! Look, I’m helping to find the brightside to a shit situation because I gave you the shovel you used to dig yourself a goddamn hole. Now, you’re a fucking bastard with a sadistic streak a mile long that you somehow thought teaching would cure. Who knows, maybe all the fucking adrenaline and bullshit from being in a mob will lower your chances of going off the bend.”

“Fair point,” Ryan allowed, calming down, “Very offensive, but fair.”

“Exactly,” Jack said, standing up, “Now sit there and think up a positive list for yourself or something. I’m goddamn starving.”

And that was that. 

 

Ryan quietly got up and passed by the kitchen, went down the hall, and shuffled into his room. He flopped onto his bed like any self-respecting adult and curled into a ball. It wasn’t that he regretted his decision, he’d come to terms with it a whole two minutes ago, it was more just watching the respectable, “right” portion of his life come to an abrupt halt. In fact, Ryan could trace the imminent downwards spiral of his life directly to the source: teaching. If he'd never decided to teach, he'd have never roomed with Jack for a shorter commute. If he'd never roomed with Jack he wouldn't have needed to go to Target and wouldn't have gotten his wallet stolen. If his wallet hadn't been stolen he'd have never joined a gang. 

Sure, there's a few leaps and bounds in reasoning there but overall, he'd say it made complete sense. It felt like a final decision without any plausible outs or take backs. But he didn’t regret it.

Being completely candid with himself, Ryan knew he was almost excited by the opportunity to  _ not  _ be good. He’d always done what he was supposed to. He’d gone to college and gotten degrees, plural. He’d taught as impeccably as he knew how. He’d been a careful driver. He’d been  _ good _ ; however, while Ryan was aware he had the means to be a morally acceptable person, he also had infinite more propensity to be… less than. 

As a person, he never subscribed to all the morals, cares, and standards everyone else seemed to be drenched in; it just seemed like the thing to do to go through life with minimal chafing. Now that he was nearing thirty, he supposed it was about time he did whatever the fuck he wanted to.

With a long sigh, Ryan sat up, still feeling oddly numb but, for the most part, doing better for having thought things down to a manageable size. His stomach grumbled angrily and he half-rolled half-climbed off the bed. He was joining a mob; it was the sort of thing that went perfectly with enchiladas.

 

.

 

Enchiladas helped, as they did in any situation, and Ryan was more calm then he’d felt since he lost his job. He didn’t even grimace when he noticed his phone ring and saw the caller.

“Hello?” Ryan asked out of ingrained politeness, though he’d rather have just skipped to the point so he could hang up as quickly as possible.

“Ryan,” Joey’s nasally voice came through, dragging his name out, “Hey man, I realized I completely have dropped the ball with you, mate. Look, you know nothing about how Cockbyte runs things and that, mi amigo, is no bueno.”

“Okay…?”

“A man of few words aren’t you? Well, I’ve got us both covered; so here’s what I’m thinking: you meet up with me and Ray-- swear he won’t be fucked up this time-- and we’ll hammer this shit out for you. You down or you diggity- _ down _ ?”

“I’m… amenable to the prospect. When-”

“Oh my fucking  _ god _ ,” Joey sniffed exasperatedly, “Mate.  _ Mate. _ You gotta loosen up man! Like, you’re a brother in arms now, you gotta chill your shit, you feel me? Now tell me you’re  _ down. _ ”

Solely in the interest of not being on the phone, Ryan replied, “I’m… ‘down.’ Now. When are you thinking?”

“Tomorrow man, gotta fix you up ASAP, yeah? Like, you gotta take notes because this is gonna be a goddamn seminar and we are going to school you, man. You gotta have some time to review the course material before we get you into class Saturday, y’know?”

Ryan was more than done with Joey, “Time.”

“I’m feeling four in the afternoon and… mmm, sushi, methinks. We’ll see you at Cho Sushi on Quinlan Park. You know it?”

“I  know it.” Ryan said and promptly hung up. Joey had really hammered his decision to cater less to the polite and socially correct behavior home.

Ryan set his phone down, glancing at it briefly when it vibrated with a message from Joey reading:  _ rude m8, v rude im beginning to think you dont love me anymore. _

Ryan ignored the message in favor of grabbing a new spiral notebook. He marked it as “School” only because it was the only non-alarming word for ‘mob’ in his head, thanks to Joey. While he didn’t plan on actually taking notes tomorrow, he couldn’t help but think it’d be nice to have complete documentation of the path he was taking. He figured it’d come in handy at some point, even if only for entertainment value. 

Grabbing a pen from his bag, he titled the first page, “New Beginnings,” and drew a line underneath it. Then he paused, trying to decide how much to write down. Eventually, he decided he’d be completely candid and wrote the experience of actually being accepted into the mob. He highlighted his the date of his acceptance on a whim and then decided he liked the importance it gave the dates, so he would continue to make them noticeable. Closing the notebook, he got up and slid it into his underwear drawer, underneath his clothes. 

That done, he laid down to sleep, making a note to himself to actually talk to Jack about the whole deal tomorrow.

  
  
  


_ June 4 _ _ th _ _ , 2009 - Thursday _

Jack wasn’t there when Ryan woke up from a nice lie-in at noon. Go figure. Ryan sent Jack a quick, friendly message inquiring where the fuck he was before deciding to take the shower he’d neglected last night. He wasn’t  particularly looking forwards to the the meeting with Joey and Ray, in fact, Ryan was near to dreading the encounter. He wasn’t completely sure he wanted to be seen in public with Ray in the first place considering the man seemed to be permanently trashed.

He didn’t know if his new found acceptance of his lack of care for the rules could hold up against Ray’s antics. Even without taking Ray’s prevailing quirks into account, Ryan would hate to spend enough time with Joey to actually begin to find the man’s atrocious humor funny. The pair of them together in public was a prospect that sent Ryan into a pit of hopeless anxiety. 

Pushing his increasing panic to the back of his mind, Ryan stepped under the hot spray of water. As much as he was more likely to think in the shower, Ryan was far too intent on getting some sort of peace to allow his mind to wander. He made a point not to step out from under the water until it was just beginning to cool because he goddamn deserved it. 

Toweling himself off, Ryan brushed his teeth and used the bathroom, taking the time to look through the schools that still had their theatre departments as a last ditch effort to ditch the mob path and resume normalcy. The only school “nearby” with a theatre department that would at least last the next year was an hour away. With a sigh, Ryan turned off his phone, finished his business and left the bathroom. 

The kitchen was well stocked thanks to his Target run, so Ryan took the time to actually make a full breakfast: eggs, bacon, pancakes, grits-- the works. It was almost three by the time Ryan had finished his lunchtime morning meal so, with a put-upon sigh, he grabbed his bag, headed to the apartment parking lot, and hopped into his car. 

Ryan arrived at Cho’s fifteen minutes early and felt a surge of hope that he might have more time to fortify himself for the forthcoming stupidity as he headed to the entrance. Hope that was immediately dashed when he saw both men were already on opposite sides of a booth with water and appetizers. Joey noticed Ryan almost immediately and waved frantically as though Ryan wasn’t already walking towards them.

“Rydog, Ryebread, my man with the master plan, it is absolutely, totally  _ tubular _ to make your acquaintance this fine afternoon.” Joey said the moment Ryan slid into the booth beside Ray with minimal deliberation.

“I really can’t say the same,” Ryan deadpanned, “what exactly do I need to know?”

Joey held up his hand and waggled his index finger, “Ah, ah, ah good sir; you possess a menu in front of you, try ordering a meal, yeah? We don’t discuss business on empty stomachs.”

Ryan glared Joey down with a blank stare for a full minute. The man’s vacant smile didn’t budge an inch. Accepting defeat, Ryan picked up one of the menus from the middle of the table and glanced at it briefly before choosing the tuna rolls. Ray nabbed the menu from him and waved over a waitress.

“One order of the california rolls and one of the tuna rolls, thanks.”

“Will that be all for you gentlemen?”

Ray nodded, “Yeah, tha-”

“Whoa, whoa,  _ no _ , if  I could get tuna rolls as well that’d be…  _ swell _ , yeah?” Joey interrupted.

Ray sighed. The waitress nodded and left the table. Ryan’s eyebrows raised in surprise at Ray’s apparent sobriety; the man was still annoyingly twitchy but he looked focused or at least more able to actually think. That in mind, Ryan changed his outlook on the evening now that he had the option to get most of the information from a sober, more tolerable Ray rather than Joey.

“Is there a reason why he’s here?” Ryan asked Ray, not quietly in the slightest.

Before Ray could answer Joey cut in, “I’m chaperoning your date, doll, can’t have you ruining our poor, innocent Ray-rella.”

Completely ignoring Joey, Ray replied, “No. In fact, it’d probably be better to ignore him until we’re done here. Next time you need information, call me. As a general rule of thumb, avoid Lane.”

“Lane?” Ryan murmured.

Ray nodded towards Joey, “This asshole.”

Joey seemed content to pout as Ryan and Ray studiously ignored his antics. Ryan was mildly annoyed as he realized that if Ray wasn’t being the weird one, Joey doubled his irritating nature to make up for it. 

“Again, what exactly do I need to know?” Ryan asked.

Ray fidgeted, “Well, there’s the whole “mission” system we’ve got going which isn’t that complicated but it’s easier to deal with if you have some guidance, I think.”

“How does it work?” He asked, turning completely away from Joey to give Ray his full attention.

“It’s kind of like a bounty board, man. Like, you go in and check out what there is to be done and grab one that suits your fancy. You report that to Desk Crew so that people know what probably went wrong if you fucked up.”

“So if I fuck up do I get gang backup or am I pretty much on my own from there?”

“As a grunt, you don’t get backup unless you’ve got some friends who are willing to haul your ass out of the shithole. You might get a bit of help if you take on something larger but the chances of Desk approving you for an actually important job is pretty low if you don’t already have a good established success rate.”

Ryan nodded, “Okay, so how do I keep food on the table?”

Ray’s lips twitched upwards into a slight smile at the expression, “ Each mission has a general percentage or commission fee with it so you get paid based on what you manage to bring back. After you’re done, you report back to the desk and they’ll give you your cut of the profits and update the number of jobs you’ve taken.”

Joey made some noises and perhaps even said a word or two as he tried to get into the conversation but Ray just paid him a blank, unamused look as he said, “Shut the fuck up, Lane.”

Ryan couldn’t help a bark of laughter at that as well as some awe when Joey’s mouth  shut immediately with an audible  _ click _ .

“Anyway,” Ray said, continuing as though nothing had happened, “As a grunt, you’re expected to hit maybe three to ten petty jobs a month or a couple decent ones depending on your time and anonymity. If you’re under that-- which is pretty hard to do-- then you’re kind of phased out.”

“Phased out.”

Ray nodded, “Yeah.”

A wry smile turned Ryan’s mouth which Ray almost mirrored as they both accepted that that was the extent of what Ray was going to explain.

“Now….kiss!” Joey murmured, effectively reminding Ryan why he didn’t want to be there and wiping the beginnings of a smile off Ray’s face. Any response either of them might have given was cut off by the waitress bringing their food.

“Lane, you explain the partner system,” Ray commanded after she’d left the table.

“Mate, Ray, my name is Joey. You know how normal people use first names? You should for sure try it. It’ll be a brand new experience, might even change your life!”

Ray met Joey’s eyes calmly to say, “I’m sure having your vocal cords sawn out of your throat would change your life.”

With a sigh, Joey turned to Ryan and said, mouth full of sushi, “Okay home skillet, this is how the shit goes down on the flip side: You take a mission right? But your ass is too much of a puss to do it alone. So you grab one of your equally jelly-legged buddies and you both go jack it together. You can do that with anything, yeah? But the pay is split between the two of you evenly, no matter what, from the moment you tell Desk you’re both working on the job. So like, let’s say your buddy can’t hit puberty fast enough and is lacking the balls to work with you and doesn’t show up. Too fucking bad for you, Desk says you both worked on it, so Backstabber McGee gets half your pay, yeah? So mate, matey, if you really wanna rub nasties with someone else to make that paper, you better trust them not to give you an itch.”

“Oh...,” Ryan said, still translating the verbal diarrhea that had spewed from Joey’s face, “Okay….”

“Look, man,” Ray began, “If you want me to run that by you again in English-”

“No, I think I’ve got it,” Ryan said, “I’d just rather be home now. Anything else particularly pressing?”

Ray shook his head, paused, and then nodded, “If you’re ever having a rough patch you can bunk with the group. The rent’s cheaper, downside is you’re stuck living around a bunch of assholes you probably don’t like to begin with.”

“Does Joey live on the group’s property?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll make sure not to go through any rough patches then.”

“Good choice.”

“Hey now, guys, this is the exact opposite of polite, kind, and friendly conversation. I think we’re done here now, mostly because I feel quite attacked and I need a day or five to cry out this pain in my group delegated apartment,” Joey said, standing and quickly chewing his last two rolls, “so, I will see you two sad sacks of bad humor when and where the sun don’t shine. I’ll be in the stall with the soap on the floor; ta!”

There was silence at the table for awhile before Ryan stood and switched sides of the booth, pushing Joey’s plate away from him.

“Did we just treat him?”

Ray sighed, “If that’s the price of getting his ass away from me, I’m okay with it.”

“Fair point,” Ryan conceded, pulling his tuna rolls to his side and continuing to eat, “Anything I should be expecting or worried about on my first day?”

“Nah,” Ray begun, “as far as, ‘initiations’ go we’re pretty chill. You’ll probably be expected to get quite a bit of grunt work handled just to prove you’re actually here to do something but it’s not really a writen down rule or anything.”

“Okay, that’s good. Anything else?”

“Yeah, back on the subject of jobs, there are a bunch of different little parts of it you’ll learn as you go along but, so as far as partners go, you can have someone just watch your back but not actually help you out-- a “spotter”-- and they only get a fourth of your pay instead of a full half. That’s pretty much what I do most of the time.”

Ryan nodded slowly, “Not good with the actual jobs?”

“Nah, man, I’m the mob’s best sniper, shooter, and have the highest successful mission rate.”

Ryan choked, “What?”

Ray’s lips curved into a small, satisfied grin, “I just don’t have the time to do all the heavy lifting anymore, besides, we’ve got a lot of new blood coming in who can pick up where I left off.”

“How old are you? Seem a bit young for retirement.”

“First off, I’m not retired at all. Second, I’m nineteen, old man, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-eight,” Ryan laughed, “And fuck right off, I’m not old.”

“The first step is acceptance,” Ray monotoned, pushing his plate away from him. The waitress came to give them the bill and they paid equal halves of the bill with a mild grimace at the price. Ryan left the tip.

“Minus Lane ruining my day, this was alright. Welcome to Cockbyte, man.”

“Agreed,” Ryan smiled, “thanks. See you around, Ray.”

He headed home with a smile.

 

-

 

_ June 6 _ _ th _ _ , 2009- Saturday _

Jack, despite his best efforts to conceal it, was more excited than Ryan was about his own first day in the gang. He’d abruptly turned off a gang movie when Ryan had come home Friday and Ryan let the opportunity to bully his friend pass because, really, he had bigger things to occupy his mind. Now, on the day of his ‘initiation,’ Joey was messaging him nonstop. Ryan had only just woken up, grabbing his phone groggily to see that it was nine in the morning and he had twelve missed messages.

With a world weary sigh as he saw who they were from, Ryan unlocked his phone and checked them.

_ 8:00 am - Joey _

_ 4 hours until you meet the illustrious members of Cockbyte!!! Are you ready?!? _

_ 8:05 am - Joey _

_ 3 hours and 55 minutes until you meet the illustrious members of Cockbyte!!! Are you ready?!? _

_ 8:10 am - Joey _

_ 3 hours and 50 minutes until you meet the illustrious members of Cockbyte!!! Are you ready?!? _

 

Ryan had only just managed to finish deleting the near identical messages before another came in. Extremely irritated, he jammed the call button beside Joey’s name and waited for the nuisance to pick up impatiently.

“Hey, hey, hey, Ryebread, my ma-,” Joey said, his nasal voice only fuelling Ryan’s annoyance.

“Listen to me Lane, and listen well: you message me for anything short of an emergency and I will personally rip you goddamn dick off and choke you with it.”

There was silence for a few moments before, significantly quieter, Joey said, “I think you’ll fit in just fine. Ta, love!”

Ryan momentarily felt he could snap his phone in anger at the dial tone but, with a heaving sigh, he calmed down somewhat and got out of bed. After taking a shower and a piss he banged on Jack’s door as he passed, calling out, “Breakfast in thirty!”

Ryan opened the fridge, scratching his stomach absently, and grabbed bacon and eggs. Pancakes were far too much effort. Jack emerged from his room just as Ryan was plating up the food and Ryan passed him a plate saying, “Get your own bread if you want it.”

“Thanks,” Jack mumbled around a yawn. He stared at his plate for a moment, still half-asleep, before his eyes snapped up to Ryan and he asked, “How’d the… the gang thing go?”

Knowing better than to assume Jack would remember anything before he’d at least begun eating, Ryan didn’t answer until his housemate sat down and crunched sleepily on a piece of bacon.

“The  _ mob  _ thing went well, thanks. Ray and Joey filled me in on what to expect. Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask, how the hell did you get to know someone so fucking annoying?”

“Who, Joey? He was trying to rough me up once and a different friend of mine set him straight. We somehow ended up talking and he told me he was a grunt in Cockbyte and tried to get me to join.”

“Why’d you bother keeping in contact with some young, annoying piece of shit?”

Jack frowned, blinking at Ryan in confusion for a moment, “Joey’s older than you.”

The eggs Ryan was raising to his mouth slipped off his spoon as he stared at his friend in shock, “He’s what?”

“Joey’s thirty. He just looks like a highschooler,” Jack said.

Closing his mouth and pushing his plate aside, Ryan stood, “I’m done. I need to process before I have to see his face again.”

“Is it really that big a deal?” Jack asked, seemingly more interested in his food than Ryan’s response.

“No thirty year old should be that carefree,” Ryan said darkly, stomping to the bathroom to have a shower, “Or that stupid.”

Jack chose to ignore that comment, instead saying, “You’re going to the actual mob today right?”

“Yeah,” Ryan called back, “They’re supposed to pick me up at noon.”

“Cool, could you maybe be quick in the shower? I picked up another shift.”

Ryan sighed, “Nah, you just go ahead, I’ve got time.”

“Thanks! For the food too.”

 

After Jack left for work, Ryan was a bit rushed to get ready, both mentally and physically, even though he still had thirty minutes after he’d done everything he could think to do. Ten minutes to noon, Joey messaged Ryan saying:

_ 11:50 am - Joey _

_ 10 minutes until midnight cinderella r u ready for your prince charming? _

Against his better judgement, Ryan couldn’t help responding:

_ Shut up old man. _

Ryan’s phone rang almost immediately after the message sent and he answered out of habit.

“Ryan,” Joey dragged Ryan’s name out in a long whine, “Who told you? You should never mention a lady’s age!”

Almost as fast as he’d picked up, Ryan hung up, heaved himself off of the living room chair, grabbed his bag, and headed downstairs to the parking lot. A black  Escalade pulled up exactly at noon. The driver’s tinted window rolled down to show a beautiful black woman who looked like she’d prefer to be doing anything else.

“Haywood?” She asked, her voice raspy and low.

“That’s me.” 

“Get in.”

Ryan got in, muttering, “What kind of gang chauffeurs it’s members around in a cadillac?”

“Mob, Rydog, we’re a  _ mob. _ ”

Ryan groaned, “Please disappear.”

“That’s so rude, Ray and I came to personally see you safely to Cockbyte, don’t be so mean!” Joey whined.

Ignoring Joey, Ryan turned in his seat to see Ray, who he’d missed when he got into the car. The man’s eyes were completely vacant, sweat trailing down his forehead and dripping off his eyelashes. His head bobbed with the movements of the car like a marionette and his chest fluttered quickly as though he was fighting for air. Splayed out on the back seat, Ray looked close to death, but his nearly closed eyes flickered this way and that as though there was something interesting to look at in the car.

Ryan turned back around, feeling slightly sick, and looked at Joey. Joey’s face was completely blank for the millisecond it took him to notice Ryan’s gaze. His usual devil-may-care smile returned so quickly, Ryan couldn’t be sure if it hadn’t been there at all.

“That’s our Ray, always on  _ something _ ,” Joey giggled, “You may have caught him sober at Cho’s but don’t expect to see it often.”

Ray groaned softly, his breathing becoming a bit more labored, and Joey grabbed a water bottle from his footwell. Climbing over the seat, Joey opened the bottle, lifted Ray’s head a bit, and dribble some of the water into his mouth. A thin stream of water trickled out of Ray’s mouth and his head lolled but his throat worked vigorously. Joey waited for a moment then repeated the process another five times before climbing back over to his seat.

“I’m just like a mama bird feeding her young, yeah? Little Ray-Ray cheeps and Mama Joe delivers.”

Ryan, at a loss for words, just stared at Joey. The man gave Ryan a bright grin, “Oh, I never introduced you to Yvette, yeah? Goodness me, where are my manners? Ry-ry, our beautiful chauffeur, Yvette. Yvette, this is Ryman, the newest addition to our group of superheroes.”

Yvette was silent until she slowed at a red light. She turned slightly in her chair to glance at Ryan with an an almost imperceptible nod. Ryan bobbed his head back and she turned away.

“She’s a lady of few words; heartbreaking with that angelic voice of hers, a true tragedy, I know,” Joey said, pressing his hand to his chest, “But never mind that, we’re pretty much at Cockbyte’s main headquarters so prepare your anus!”

“What?” Ryan asked, still offput by Ray and the surreality of the moment.

“We’re here.” Yvette said lowly, parking before she turned to her passengers, “Get out.”

Ryan shuffled out of the car, Joey hanging back to wrestle a barely responsive Ray outside, and looked up at a tidy, white, four story office building. Just having managed to get Ray out of the car and upright, Joey elbowed Ryan lightly, “Get a move on then, mate, our delicate Ray-rella is heavier than he looks.”

“Your jokes are losing originality.” Ryan said distractedly, walking up to the building. He opened the door and stepped away to allow Joey to get Ray inside. Joey passed Ray off to a gruff man by the door, patting the man’s arm before motioning for Ryan to follow him. 

“Okay, so listen well my main man of the hour,” Joey began easily, “This is the main floor, yeah?”

Joey swept his arm towards the large room and Ryan took the opportunity to take in his surroundings. The walls were a light gray and the floors a blue-gray tile. A hexagonal, mahogany reception desk stood in the center of the room, a billboard covered in neatly arranged papers next to it. A man and two women sat at the desk, typing busily away at their laptops. There were several doors leading out of the room and a hallway along the back.

Joey ushered Ryan up to the desk, stating the obvious, “This would be Desk, Ryro. These are the people you report to both for and after jobs. The Desk Crew will keep track of your payments, missions, success rates, and all that technical stuff. You got a problem in the future, you bring it here. Got that?” 

Ryan nodded, “Do I need to... register with them or anything?”

The lady at Desk looked up, answering, “No, after your background check, we’re given your general information and you are immediately in our systems. We have a closed network with several people who live to keep the mob’s information safe so you never need to worry about that. Seeing as you’re a new member, all we’ll need from you today is a seven digit number as your form of identification.”

“Uh,” Ryan began, wracking his brain for something he’d remember, “Can I have some time on that?”

The lady nodded, “Of course; however, until you make your identification number, you won’t be eligible to take any jobs. If you’d prefer to handle things online, we do have a site.”

“That would be preferable, thanks.”

“Okay, I’ll have to print you out a site pass or email it to you. After that, you can register at your own convenience.”

“If you could print it that’d be great.”

She nodded again and, within three minutes, Ryan had a long site passcode in his hand. He thanked the lady once more and turned to Joey who’d been oddly silent throughout the entire process. Joey pulled Ryan past Desk, waiting until they were a good bit away before saying, “Just as a side note Rydog, if you ever find your sense of humor I mean, don’t mess with Desk Crew.”

Ryan raised a brow in inquiry saying, “If it was anyone else, I’d almost want to hear the story there.”

“Ryro, you’re so  _ mean _ ,” Joey whined, “After all the effort I’m putting into giving you a tour too!”

Ryan shrugged uncaringly then pointed to the doors on either side of the room, “What’s in there?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Joey said, clucking his tongue, “Aside from Desk, most of the first floor is off-limits to grunts. Now, the elevator is down the left hall; second floor is meeting rooms and all that corporate-like jazz. The third floor is pretty much empty though there were plans before to make it some sort of snazzy research area. Fourth floor is off-limits to heathens like yourself and everyone but the mob’s top members.”

Ryan nodded, “So... are we not leaving the first floor?”

“What? Poppet, you really must look forward to bigger, better things,” Joey giggled, “we’re going straight to the top!”

“You just said it was off-limits for ‘heathens like myself.’”

“Never you mind that child, as a new member you have a single, one-time only chance to meet the big boss!” Joey exclaimed, grabbing Ryan’s arm and pulling the man with him.

“Wait, what?” Ryan hissed, resisting Joey’s hold as the man jollily dragged him along, “Joey, wait a fucking second!”

Joey had the nerve to hum as he continued ignoring Ryan’s protests. The man only turned back to look at Ryan when the elevator doors closed and he selected the fourth floor.

“Problem?”

Ryan took a moment to breathe, trying his hardest to control the rage Joey was so good at inciting before he spoke, “Why am I going to see the leader? What do I need to do or know or-”

“Aw, Ryro, are you nervous?” Joey asked, dragging the last word into four syllables, “Don’t you worry poppet, Mama Joe is here to protect you. You don’t need to do a thing!”

Ryan opened his mouth to protest again but the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to a black carpeted floor, low lighting, and red walls. Joey grinned at Ryan before taking a left out of the elevator. 

“Cockbyte’s leader really does insist on meeting all our newbies, yeah? He’s so sweet and caring, you’ll love him!” 

Ryan chose to remain silent as Joey knocked smartly on the last door in the hallway in the center of the back wall. A small speaker beside the door made a low whir before beeping twice and Joey opened the door, stepping aside to let Ryan pass with a cheeky, “After you, good sir.”

Uneasily, Ryan stepped into the large, dimly lit room. He turned when he didn’t hear footsteps behind him just in time to see Joey’s cheerful wave as he closed the door behind Ryan. Alarmed and anxious, Ryan swallowed down his instinct to call back out to Joey, wrench the door open, and get out of the building. 

Before Ryan could decide whether to keep walking forwards or simply wait for a bit while he digested the situation, the lights brightened substantially, revealing a hefty man with ginger hair and an impressive beard. A large desk behind the man stood in front of a good-sized window and file cabinets lined the right wall. In each corner of the room, there was some tropical looking plant, complete with a fish tank centered between the plants on the left wall.

“Um,” Ryan began quietly when the man didn’t say anything, “I’m Ryan? I just joined today and-”

The man interrupted Ryan with a booming laugh, his voice a happy rumble, “Ryan, nice to meet you! I’m Charlie Scott, leader of Cockbyte!”

The man’s face was split with a large smile and he stepped forward to shake Ryan’s hand in a crushing grip. Dazedly, Ryan nodded, and Charlie continued.

“Now, we’re always happy to see new faces around these parts, so make yourself at home! Who led you on up here?”

“Uh, Joey. Joey Lane?” Ryan said, finally managing to free his hand from Charlie’s grasp without outright yanking it away.

“Joey, huh? Good man, that Joey. Well, if you’ve ever got any problems you bring them straight to me, y’hear?”

Regaining his composure, Ryan stood straighter and nodded, “Thanks.”

Charlie’s smile grew impossibly larger, “That’s ‘Thanks, sir,’ yeah?”

Warily, Ryan nodded, the feeling of unease in his chest growing, “Thanks, sir.”

“There’s a good man!” Charlie laughed, “Make sure you don’t cause any trouble now, we’re a civilised people here. Now, you get on out there and get to work; someone’s explained the ropes to you?”

“Yes sir,” Ryan said, his unease morphing into a surprising amount of dislike for the man. 

“Off you go then.” Charlie said cheerily. There was something in his happily crinkled eyes that put Ryan off and gave him the impression that Charlie didn’t much like him either.

Leaving the room and finding his way back down the hall, Ryan stepped into the elevator with a heaving sigh.

“What a fucking welcome.”

Ryan didn’t see Joey on his way out though, before he could make it out of the doors, the lady from the desk called him back. She introduced herself as Elisia and explained that, unless he wanted to walk home, when he used the group’s transport system, he’d have to tell Desk when he left so that they could arrange for him to be chauffeured back. Ryan thanked her and stepped outside to wait for his ride.

Five minutes later, Yvette pulled up in front of him and he got into the passenger seat.

“Back home?” She asked, already driving.

“Yeah,” Ryan said belatedly, “thanks.”

Yvette nodded and they rode in silence. Ryan thanked her again as he stepped out of the car and she drove off without acknowledging it. Exhausted, Ryan climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered his apartment. It was only three o’clock but, since Jack wasn’t home to pester him yet and he’d had a hectic day, Ryan went straight to his room to sleep.

 


End file.
